Assignment Gestapo by Sven Hassel Read Free Book Online Page B

senior, was a lieutenant colonel, wearing a ridiculous monocle that kept flashing in the sun. He raised a hand in patronizing salute to Lt. Ohlsen, and as we moved up he looked us over with a condescending stare.
    ‘So you’ve arrived at last . . . I expected you some time ago I don’t ask for reinforcements unless I have need of them – and when I do have need of them, expect them straight away.’ His monocle moved up and down our ranks, glinting contemptuously. ‘Well, your men look to be quite an experienced band . . . one hopes that one’s confidence does not turn out to be misplaced?’ He removed his monocle, breathed, on it, polished it, screwed it back again and addressed himself to us over Lt. Ohlsen’s shoulder. ‘Just for the record, should like to make it clear from the start that we’re rather hot on discipline in this neck of the woods. I don’t know what you chaps have been up to out there, but now that you’re here you can start pulling your fingers out. Hm!’ He nodded, apparently satisfied that he had made some kind of point, and turned back to Ohlsen. ‘Allow me to introduce myself: Lt. Colonel von Vergil. I’m in command here.’ Lt. Ohlsen saluted. ‘I sent for reinforcements some days ago. I expected you long before this. However, now that you’ve arrived, I can certainly use you. Over that way, on the edge of the woods. Hill 738. Enemy’s been rather busy there just lately. You’ll find the left flank of my battalion nearby. Make sure you maintain good lines of communication.’
    ‘Sir.’
    Lt. Ohlsen saluted again, with two fingers to his helmet. The Colonel opened his eye and dropped his monocle.
    ‘Do you call that a regulation salute, Lieutenant?’
    Ohlsen stood to attention. He clicked his heels together and brought one hand up very smartly. The Colonel nodded a grudging approval.
    ‘That’s better. We don’t tolerate slapdash ways here, you know. This is a Prussian infantry battalion. We know what’s what, and we maintain the highest standards. So long as you are under my command, I shall expect that you do the same.’ The Colonel placed his hands behind his back and leaned forward slightly, frowning. ‘What’s this foreign scum you’ve brought along with you?’
    ‘Russian prisoners, sir. One lieutenant and five privates.’
    ‘Hang them. We don’t keep that sort of trash round here.’
    There was a moment’s pause. I could see Lt. Ohlsen swallowing rather hard.
    ‘Did you say – hang them, sir?’
    ‘Of course I said hang them! What’s the matter with you, man? Are you slow-witted or something?’
    The Colonel turned on his heel and stalked back inside the chalet. Lt. Ohlsen followed him with his eyes, his expression grim. We all knew the Colonel’s type: an Iron Cross maniac, with not a thought in his head beyond that of personal glory and gratification.
    The Russian lieutenant raised an eyebrow at Ohlsen.
    ‘So what happens?’ he murmured. ‘Do we hang?’
    ‘Not if I can help it!’ snapped Ohlsen. ‘I’d sooner stand by and watch that buffoon strung up!’
    A window on the first floor was flung violently open by an NCO, and the buffoon himself looked out.
    ‘By the way, Lieutenant, one word of warning before you take up your positions: when I give an order, I expect it to be carried out immediately . . . I trust I make myself clear?’
    ‘Bloody hell,’ muttered Porta. ‘That’s all we needed. A bleeding Prussian nut . . .’
    Lt. Ohlsen turned sharply on him.
    ‘Do you mind? There’s no need to make the situation worse than it already is.’
    The Colonel’s Adjutant, a young pink-faced lieutenant, appeared at the door with orders from the Colonel that we were to take up our positions immediately . . . and to do so strictly according to the rule book. Whatever that may have meant. After years of fighting at the front, you pretty well make up your own rule book.
    We reached Hill 738 and set about digging ourselves in. The earth was hard, but